


Time heals wounds (but leaves scars)

by LilyAmelia



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon compliant-ish, F/M, Minor Aang/Katara, eventual zutara though, or major I guess since I start by following canon? sorry guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9237815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyAmelia/pseuds/LilyAmelia
Summary: Glimpses and snapshots of Katara and Zuko's lives, from the four-part finale to post-LoK. Mostly canon compliant, but ultimately Zutara.





	1. 14

**14.**

* * *

 

She’s fourteen (almost _fifteen_ , though) when she ducks from a blazing fireball and sends a wave crashing down on the former Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. Water freezes at her will as she glides towards the soaked boy, and lands on him, blasting another jet of ice cold water to his chest for good measure.

She sits on his stomach with a devious, satisfied glint in her eyes and leans forward, palmson the ground locking his head in place.  " Say it. "

He grunts his refusal, and raises a hand to wipe away the water from his eyes. (Stupid boy forgot he could just _steam_ it off. She knocks his hand away as punishment).

" _Say. It._ "

He shakes his head in exasperation, but gives in with a sigh.  " You win, formidable Master Waterbender Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. "

She blinks.  " Well, yes. Obviously. But that’s not what I was talking about. " She leans in closer and flings her hair in his face. She still smells the smoke.  " Say it. "

" Oh, that. Um. Right. " Up close, she sees drops of sweat running down the bridge of his nose. His eyes flicker from hers to the tips of her singed hair; his own dark bangs, drenched with sweat and water, stick haphazardly to his forehead.  " Sorry for setting your hair on fire with an adapted waterbending form. " He’s trying to conceal it, but there is no mistaking the slight smugness in his voice.

It _was_ pretty impressive. Almost as impressive as her water punches yesterday.

She glowers for a second before leaning back and crossing her arms.  " I forgive you. "

It takes about half a second for the humor to vanish from his eyes, and Katara realizes her mistake.

_Too soon. For the love of Tui, Katara- think before you talk!_

" Zuko- " she starts, but he’s already grabbing her wrists and twists so she’s now the one pressed against the soft grass.

Water drips from his hair onto her temples, but she doesn’t find it in herself to care. Not when he’s staring at her like this. He opens his mouth to say something, amber eyes burning with something desperate- _pleading_ \- before dropping his head with a sigh. His shoulders sag, defeat etched in every movement as he gets to his feet.

He extends his hand, refusing to meet her eyes. Biting her lip, she grabs it to hoist herself up.  " Thanks, " she mumbles. "Um, rematch tomorrow? As usual?" She hopes he catches the unpronounced apology.

His gaze flickers to hers warily.  "Yeah," he concedes. "Okay."

"Oi, Sparky! Hands off the baby sister!"

Sokka and Aang emerge from a couple of berry bushes, picking loose branches from their clothes. She feels Zuko’s hand slip from her grasp as he takes a step back.

An eyeroll and a "I’m going to get cleaned up," is the response her brother gets, before the firebender spins around and heads back to his family house. She doesn’t miss the muttered "and she’s not a baby." She can’t explain the flush she feels creeping up her neck.

"That was amazing, Katara!" Aang’s eyes are wide with admiration. "It’s really awesome to watch you guys spar." He tapes his chin pensively, staring at Zuko’s receding form. "He’s going to have to show me some of those moves during our training later."

Sokka plucks a berry from the bush and hands it to her. "So, who won this time?"

She pops the berry in her mouth and chews. She usually enjoys the burst of flavors. Right then, however, she finds no pleasure in tasting the sweet fruit. Her reply is flat. "I did." 

It doesn’t _feel_ like a victory.


	2. 16

**16.**

* * *

He’s sixteen when he recklessly dives in front of a lightning bolt.

The whole plan to stop his sister from claiming the throne was on the line. An Agni Kai between two royal siblings to determine the fate of a nation (maybe the world) and he doesn’t think twice before almost tossing his life- and previously mentioned fate of the nation- away for a bossy, self-righteous waterbender.

He’s been told he doesn’t really think things through. Maybe there’s some truth in that.

He raises his hand to his chest, absently tracing the ugly red wound through the thick bandages.

He’d do it again, though. In a heartbeat.

"It’s going to leave a scar." Speaking of bossy waterbenders.

He shrugs. "Wouldn’t be my first." 

And it’s true. A firebender burnt by his own family. Two scars- one for defending his people, and the other for protecting someone he cares about. There’s a strange sort of poetry about it, if one were so inclined to appreciate such things. Which Zuko is not.

He _does_ , however, recognize the painful irony.

Katara steps closer, a vision in blue. Her hand hovers over the bandages. "I should have healed it sooner. It might have helped..."

"You’ve done more than enough, Katara." It comes out with a little more fervor than he would have liked.  He gives himself a mental shake.  "I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your healing."

Her blue eyes snap to his. He’s reminded that ice burns, too. "You wouldn’t have _needed_ healing if it weren’t for me!"

"I asked you to come-"

"And I accepted _with pleasure_!"

He stares at her, with her ridiculous hair beads and smooth brown skin, her stubborn stance and fierce devotion to anyone she considers a friend. He deems himself fortunate to have made it into that category.

It occurs to him that after chasing his ‘honor’ for three years- only to learn he has to earn it back himself- he spends weeks working to gain Katara’s good opinion (which, once lost, turns out to be pretty hard to get back). 

It seems all he does is chase.

(Uncle Iroh probably has a wise proverb about that. He’ll have to ask him.)

He clears his throat. "I guess we’re even."

She raises an eyebrow, looking every inch the daughter of a Water Tribe chief she is. "I could whip your entitled firebending butt to the next eclipse, Zuko." Her expression softens. "But yeah, we’re always even."

That stirs something in him, a marrow-deep gratitude for this gift she offers him. He’s always been _beneath_ , inferior, not enough. _Unworthy_. But to this rag-tag group of teenage misfits, to this powerful fighter with simmering anger and enough empathy to crack the walls of a broken prince, he’s even. He’s _equal_.

He’s _terrible_ with words, and yet he feels them bubbling in his chest, threatening to spill over in some clumsy form of acknowledgement. They vanish when she places three fingers on the pristine white bandage. 

"You’d have done it for any of us." She says it as a statement. It sounds like a question.

She isn’t looking at him. He’s glad for that small blessing. It’s something he’s carefully avoided thinking about, because he’s afraid he’s not as selfless as he’d like to be. It was instinct that made him lunge- Katara dying was just _not_ an option. It was _unthinkable_ , consequences be damned.

So he goes with the safest answer. "Of course." For all he knows, it might be the truth.

Toph isn’t around to tell him.

The crowd is starting to grow in front of the palace gates. He hears the bustle of people gathering, the buzz of anticipation tinted with impatience.

She hears them too. "Big day." She shoots him a grin. "You ready?"

"How about no?" He mutters.

"Hey. We’re all here for you. As long as you need us."

He clicks his tongue. "Yeah? Don’t make promises you can’t keep." It’s supposed to be a joke, but he’s never been very good at making them.

Her blue eyes are warm, just like the hand she wraps around his bare arm. He glances down, taking in the dichotomy of her dark skin against his pale one. There’s a pain in his chest that has nothing to do with comet-fueled lightning bolts.

She lifts a shoulder. "I don’t," she says simply.

Suddenly she takes a step back, clapping her hands together. "Oh, I’m taking up all of your time. You should be getting ready. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were okay before they swept you off to all your royal duties."

He allows himself a small smile at her sheepish expression. "Check again _after_ the coronation."

She sniggers, before catching sight of the thick, red robe folded over a chair. She gestures at it with the slightest hesitation. "I can help you with that, if you want."

A wave of weariness overcomes him then. The last thing he wants at that moment is her help. He’s had too much of it; he _feels_ it- it pulses in his veins, it hums along his scar. It echoes in his very soul, because she _saved_ him, this bona fide force of nature wrapped in the shape of an unassuming, if lovely, Water Tribe girl. 

She saved him. In more ways than one.

So he just shakes his head. "I’ll be fine. Thanks."

"Alright." Her lips quirk as a strange look comes across her face. "Besides, you might get help with that soon enough."

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

There’s a fragile silence between them, the kind they haven’t experienced in weeks. He hates it.

Which is why, of course, Katara shatters it by enveloping him in a hug that temporarily knocks the breath of out him. 

He winces. "Ow-"

"Sorry!" Her face is buried in her neck and her hair tickles his nose. Is it possible to smell like sunshine, he wonders. "You’re going to be a _wonderful_ Firelord."

He grimaces. "Your misplaced faith is deeply appreciated. Thank you."

Her frown contrasts with the smile playing on her lips. 

He looks away first.

"Anyway. Toph is waiting for me. She wants me to help her pick out an outfit- something to do with color-coordination. And she wants her eyes to _pop_." There’s no missing the fond exasperation in her voice. 

He snorts in amusement, the closest thing to a laugh he thinks he’ll manage today. "Right. Can’t keep Miss Bei Fong waiting. I’ll see you all at dinner. Uncle said he’s prepared... something. Wait, do _you_ know- Katara!"

With a grin, Katara mimes locking her lips and throwing away the key, while skipping backwards out of the room. He shoots her a frustrated huff as she disappears behind the door with a giggle and a shouted "Good luck!"

Yeah. He’s going to need that.

He picks up the robe and sighs, now faced with the daunting task of dressing himself. He grunts as he pulls on the first sleeve, pain shooting up his side, and reminds himself that he needs to have a talk with his pride. 

The soft rustle of cloth catches his attention and he spins around, not expecting company. (Not really wanting it either. Not after-)

His eyes widen in surprise as he takes in one of the last people he expects to see today.

"Mai."


	3. 17

**17.**

* * *

Katara’s seventeen now- practically a woman- and yet, to Hakoda, she’ll always be that eleven-year-old girl he left behind when he chose to go to war. It’s not fair, to either of them.

"You’re leaving. Again."

His daughter looks up from her packing with a frown. "Yes, Dad. We talked about this."

He makes a noncommittal noise.

"We _did_. Until the school and healing hut are built, there’s nothing much I can do here. Aang wants to stop by the temples to see what he can salvage of the Air Nomads’ culture."

Hakoda knows he’s treading delicate waters. "The both of you have been to those temples multiple times."

Katara sighs in irritation. "I know, Dad. But somehow we always find something new." She puts two blue tunics in her bag, and stares at an orange robe lying on her pallet. "Besides, we’re going to explore more than just the temples. They’re Air _Nomads_ \- surely there’s a village somewhere with survivors, or at least vestiges of their culture. They could have settled in a quiet part of the Earth Kingdom. They could- they could have been wandering around, dressed up as locals to stay inconspicuous."

She glances up, and her voice is barely above a whisper. "You can’t just wipe out a whole nation. You _can’t_." The pained, bleak sorrow that haunts his daughter’s eyes is something Hakoda thinks no father should ever see. She blinks, and the steely determination that follows reminds him that she’s far stronger than he imagines.

But he’s still a father, and it hurts to know he can’t protect her from everything.

She brushes away a strand of dark hair that falls out of her braid. "I know I’ve griped about them in the past, but the Air Acolytes have been really beneficial for Aang. It makes him feel part of a community, like he has a piece of his people back." She picks up the orange robe and tucks in the corner of her bag. "Every time we learn something new, he’s so excited to tell them about it. Like the time we learned about a spring meditation ceremony specific to the Eastern Air Temple. It’s good for him."

There it is, his opening. He has to be careful.

"And you? Is it good for you?" He sits as casually as he can on her pallet. And waits.

She doesn’t look up from the pile of belongings. "It doesn’t matter."

Hakoda stares at his daughter, taken aback. "Of course it does. Katara-"

She spins to face him, hands on her hips and frustration in her blue eyes. Kya’s eyes. "You’re never this hard on Sokka when he leaves. He goes off to Kyoshi for 6 months at a time, and you never _say_ anything. It’s not fair!" She shakes her head, lets out a low growl. "Sokka’s got his life figured out."

Hakoda pauses at that. She’s right. 

His son will end up chief of the Southern Water Tribe one day. He spends half the year training in Kyoshi, and comes back home for the other half to learn about the responsibilities that come with leading a tribe- he’s started following Hakoda to international meetings, in order to grasp the fundamentals of diplomatic relations. War has taught his son well regarding strategic acumen, but has lagged in developing the basics of political tact.

As for his relationship with the young Kyoshi warrior, Suki- Hakoda likes her very much indeed- they seem well on their way to getting married.

Sokka does have a path laid down. Katara, on the other hand-

"You could come with us, you know. To all those meetings." Hakoda catches the way her eyes light up. "I think you’d be really good at that." He doesn’t know why he’s never thought of it before. Katara has an inherent drive to help, a keen ability to motivate people, and a strong moral compass more often than not. It’s actually quite brilliant, if he could say so himself.

"You think so? I don’t know." She bites her lip before taking a seat next to him. "I... I can’t, though. I already told Aang- besides, he needs me."

Both his eyebrows shoot up. "Aang’s not twelve anymore, Katara. He can wash his socks."

"That’s not what I meant!" she yelps, flustered. "It’s just that sometimes, Aang enters the Avatar State. It happens when there’s a big conflict he needs to solve and words aren’t always enough." She looks at her father out of the corner of her eye. "And sometimes, he...well, loses control."

Hakoda doesn’t like the sound of that. "That could be dangerous."

Katara pulls her knees to her chest. "Not if I’m there. He would never hurt me." There’s a pause before she continues. "That’s why I have to be with him when he travels. Aang needs me, Dad."

Hakoda sighs, before slipping an arm around his daughter and pulling her close. "That’s all well and good, sweetheart. But you _do_ know that need isn’t enough for a stable, healthy relationship."

She buries herself under his shoulder. "Of course I know that. I _love_ Aang." Her lips curve into a wry smile. "And I’m his forever girl."

Hakoda likes Aang. He truly does. A father could do much worse than the Avatar, where sons-in-law are concerned. But _forever_ is a big word, heavy with expectations and commitments- that might prove too much for the shoulders of two teenagers, in spite of everything they’ve already faced.

There are some lessons, however, that a father has to let his daughter learn on her own.

He’ll be there for her, though, when- or _if_ (who knows, it might all work out)- she learns it.

"Okay," he says finally, "I’ll let you get back to your packing."

She smiles, rolling her sarashi and placing it in her bag.

"If you change your mind, Katara," he sees it again- that sparkle in her eye- when she looks to him, "I’ll be glad to bring you along to those meetings. The Fire Nation could use some hosing down now and then from a master waterbender." He smirks as she starts to snicker. He drops a kiss on her temple before getting up.

She’s already seventeen. He has to remind himself that she grew up without him.

But he’s not going anywhere now.

"Wait, Dad." She scrambles to her feet before throwing her arms around her father. "I’ll be back soon, you know. Once the school and the hut open, I’ll be home for a while."

He smiles into her hair. "Then I’ll count the days until you’re back."


	4. 21

**21.**

* * *

Mai waits for Zuko’s twenty-first birthday to pass before she broaches the subject. Contrary to popular belief, she’s not a heartless bitch. They both know it’s been a long time coming, anyway.

About four years in the making, she’d say.

She leans against the doorframe of his study. "Hey. May this noblewoman have an audience with the Firelord?"

He looks up form the daunting stacks of scrolls on his desk. His skin is pale in the flickering light emanating from the oil lamp beside him, and his features are drawn and weary. "Of course, she may."

He then cracks a smile, and Mai never fails to be astounded by the way that simple gesture makes him look younger- like the handsome, youthful man he’s supposed to be, and not their nation’s diligent sovereign. 

She loves his smile. Always has. It’s a smile tinted with a strange innocence, some form of purity that was at complete odds with Azula’s calculating grin. Even if the smile was hardly ever shot in her direction (it had four main recipients: his mother, uncle, cousin and a family of turtleducks), young Mai was enthralled.

She’s older now, though. And a beautiful smile from an even more beautiful boy isn’t enough anymore.

She’s suddenly nervous. Some things must come to an end, but it’s a whole other issue to actually _be_ the one to end it. "What are you up to?"

He rubs a hand over his face. "Trade deals with the water tribe. We started with furs and meat, but they’ve got some quality cloth as well." He sifts through papers and, finding the right one, plucks it up and brings it closer to the lamp. "Katara mentions in her latest letter something about a healing school. Our nation’s been focusing on war for so long- maybe it might be good to switch to something a little more...," he grimaces as he searches for the appropriate word, "helpful."

His hand absently drifts to the scar on his chest, fingers tracing the raised skin she knows lies under the red silk tunic. It’s an area she knows well, only because she’s never been allowed to go near it. He doesn’t say it outright, of course. But she would have to be a fool to miss it- the way his hand will grab hers as it trails down his chest. The way his fingers will tighten in her hair and pull her up for a kiss when she drags her lips across the bare skin above his stomach.

He never talks about it, but she knows. The scar- it’s _hers_. The waterbender’s. 

Whether he’ll admit it or not. Honestly, she doesn’t think he _realizes_ what he’s doing.

Nevertheless, the simple action gives her all the confirmation she needs. This life isn’t what she wants. It’s never been what she wants.

"Zuko." His eyes snap to hers at her tone. "It’s...It’s time. We’re done."

"What?" He looks hurt, but there’s no hint of surprise. "But, aren’t you happy, Mai?"

"I am, sometimes." She gives him a small smile. She’s stingy with those, but this one she saves just for him. "I want more than _sometimes_ , though." She takes a step closer. "You have to want more, too."

He puts down his pen and drops his chin to his chest. "Sometimes. Yeah." It comes out as a sigh.

She steps aroundhis desk and places a hand on his shoulder. "I care about you, Zuko. Hell, I might even love you a little." Her lips twitch at snort that escapes him. She’s never been one to spontaneously burst out with declarations of affection. "I may have been raised for a life like this, but I _hate_ it. I hate the politics, I hate endless meetings with diplomatic representatives, I hate the pomp that comes with all of," she raises her arms and gestures vaguely at their surroundings, " _this_."

Her boyfriend’s (or _ex_ -boyfriend now, she corrects herself) usually far too open face is inscrutable as he studies her from his chair. _He’s learning._

"Yeah. You’ve always said that. And yet, after everything, you came back for the coronation. _My_ coronation. You came back to me. What did you expect, Mai?"

She straightens and shrugs. "I was young. I thought you’d be enough." 

Zuko swears under his breath and lets out a humorless chuckle. "Gee, thanks."

Mai rolls her eyes at his reaction. "Oh, come off it, Zuko. You know that’s not what I mean."

She was raised to be the perfect Fire Lady; docile, obedient. A woman seen but not heard. It’s ironic that a nation that prides itself on a semblance of equality between the sexes should reserve such a passive role for the spouse of their leader. She thinks of Sozin and Ozai. _Ah, that’s probably why_.

Zuko becoming Firelord has changed that- during the last four years he’s overhauled some of the very foundations of the Fire Nation, keeping its core values of duty and honor but enforcing international responsibility and respect of others. He’s given a voice to his people. It’s expected that the future Fire Lady would have a voice as well.

The thing is, Mai couldn’t care less about that.

She cares about her nation (more or less, anyway). However, she has less than zero interest in actually _running_ it.

"I don’t _want_ to be Fire Lady. I think the Fire Nation deserves someone who’d be proud to hold that position. And that’s not me, Zuko."

She takes in a deep breath. She hasn’t even started on what’s wrong with them on a _personal_ level.

He’s now one of the only people capable to make her smile- aside from Ty Lee and Tom-Tom- but it doesn’t change the fact that they have problems. Deep-rooted ones they never talk about.

Their entire relationship started with them reveling in their mutual misery, encouraging their joint glumness. Having Azula set them up should have been a warning sign, now that she thinks about it. He used to resent her aloofness, her lack of demonstration. She would roll her eyes at his tendency to dramatize. 

She still does, sometimes. Maybe he does, too.

He keeps secrets from her, opting to not involve her in matters that concern his country or his family. Taking off to look for his mother is a fine example of this. It occurs to her it might partly be her fault; she remembers rebuking his former attempts at sharing his feelings.

Well, it’s a bit late to make amends for that now.

"This thing, us- we’re not right together. it’s a miracle we lasted four years. Or maybe we lasted this long because we don’t care enough."

He starts to protest. "I care about you, Mai."

She knows he’s telling the truth. He does care. But-

"Not like that." 

She points, and Zuko follows the direction of her finger, only to find himself staring at his own hand resting on his chest. He has the decency to look ashamed. 

"Mai-" His voice is soft, the rasp cracking her name in two.

"I don’t want to be second choice." The truth sounds strange out loud. It feels good, though. She shakes her head. "It doesn’t matter now. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. But when it comes to you and your personal life, Zuko, you’re a coward."

He flinches. His head drops into his palms and he leans his elbows on the desk.

"I hope one day you find it in you to be brave enough to be happy." She leans forward and brushes her lips against his cheek. "Take care of yourself, Zuko."

Head still bowed in one hand, he reaches out to grab her wrist, fingers folding into a tight grip, then releases her. "You too, Mai." 

She slips around his desk and heads out of his study. At the door, she pauses and looks back. "I’m thinking about visiting the Earth Kingdom. Ty Lee has been ranting about a weapons shop that just opened. And I sort of miss her." She lifts a shoulder. "Maybe I’ll bring Tom-Tom too. He’s been wanting to go back there for a while now." There’s a weight on her shoulders, the heaviness of something important ending. She knows it will get lighter with time. "If you need anything, you know how to find me."

He nods, and it strikes her how small he suddenly looks behind his desk, under those layers and layers of dark cloth covering that ruby-colored tunic. She feels a pang of something in her chest. Sadness, maybe- but it’s definitely not regret.

"See you around, Zuko." His gold eyes burn as he watches her leave. "Be happy."

"Thank you, Mai. I hope you find happiness too." There’s no regret on his face or in his voice either.

Their eyes meet, and a current of understanding and respect passes. It hits Mai that this is probably one of the most honest exchanges they’ve ever had during their relationship. The thought seems to occur to Zuko too, as he blinks at her and smiles softly.

She shuts the door behind her, and lets out a breath. They’re going to be fine. They’re going to be happy.

It just won’t be _together_ , and maybe that’s okay.


	5. 23

**23.**

* * *

Katara gets married at twenty-three.

She used to think she’d have at least two kids by now. But here she is, newly-wed with no children and almost nine years of globe-trekking under her belt. Life is unpredictable like that, she guesses. She wouldn’t trade the past years for anything, though.

The week preceding the wedding is spent at the South Pole, where Aang joins her after spending months in the recently founded Republic City. During those months, Katara throws herself in the training of young healers from all over the world that flock to her school. She revels in the thrilling feeling of being _useful_ , of spreading a skill that saves lives and unites people.

The wedding preparation is nevertheless an agreeable change of pace. The village bubbles with excitement: people are darting here and there, eager to commemorate the union of the Avatar and their Master Waterbender. Katara is surrounded by most of her family and friends to celebrate her upcoming wedding, and their enthusiasm is both contagious and touching. It’s everything she’s ever hoped for. 

Aang is determined to preserve Air Nomad traditions: he brings her family barley wine and exquisite silk scarves. They shower him with sea prunes and affection. Sokka gladly hogs Aang’s share of meat.

The week passes in a blur. Before she knows it, she’s on a boat with her husband-to-be, her brother, her father and Gran-Gran, well on their way to Air Temple Island. King Bumi’s waiting for them. He presides over the private ceremony, misty-eyed but clear-voiced. With a fond smile, Katara idly wonders about the legitimacy of their union- it’s blessed by a mad regent, after all.

Aang’s hand is warm in hers. She tilts her head up to find her husband grinning at her, gray eyes sparkling with delight. She subtly leans into his solid, safe form, and tightens her grip. Her gaze flits over their small congregation. She takes in Toph’s smug smile, Sokka’s hand resting on Suki’s growing belly. She spots her father’s arm wrapped around Gran-Gran’s shoulders. The both of them sport proud, blinding smiles that make Katara’s heart squeeze. Finally, furthest from her, she notices the Fire Lord and the young woman seated beside him. Curiosity nibbles at her, but she pushes it aside as Aang captures her attention and her lips in a searing kiss that seals their marriage. She giggles against his mouth as cheers erupt from the audience.

The reception, on the other hand, is a big open-air affair, taking place on Air Temple Island’s plaza. Orange and blue paper lanterns illuminate the area, with Air Nomad relics and Water Tribe crafts artfully displayed, symbolizing the meeting of two cultures. Katara hovers at the edge of the party, appreciating the fact that people from all nations are mingling in harmony. They’ve done something _good_ here.

She’s changed out of her ceremonial furs into something lighter, finally allowing her movements some fluidity. Her hands spread over the periwinkle blue dress that hugs her curves and flares out at her hips. She enjoys the way the material caresses her calves, like water lapping at her ankles. With a steadying breath, she prepares herself to join the crowd when a unfamiliar feminine voice cuts through her musings.

"May I extend my warmest congratulations, Master Katara, to you and your husband."

Katara turns to the beautiful woman that has appeared at her side, and blinks. She’s all soft curves and pleasant smiles, a far cry from Mai’s angles and hard edges. "Lady Ume! It’s an honor to finally meet you. And please, call me Katara."

"Only if you call me Ume." Brown eyes crinkle at her.

Her smile is contagious. "Deal. I’m so glad you and Zuko could make it. In his last letter, he wasn’t sure you’d have the time."

Ume laughs. "Please, Zuko wouldn’t have missed his best friends’ wedding for the _world_. He’s always talking about you."

Katara feels an inexplicable flush creep up her neck. "He does?" Her voice seems to have gone an octave higher.

"Yes, Team Avatar. " Oh. "He’s always telling me stories about your adventures." She places a hand on Katara’s arm. "The world has so much to thank you for. All of you."

Katara raises her shoulders, suddenly uncomfortable with the praise. She’s saved the trouble of answering when Ume points out Aang and Zuko standing a few feet away, deep in conversation. 

"Enough with the shop talk, boys," Katara calls out teasingly as they approach their significant others.

Aang’s face splits into a grin when he spots her. "Katara!" He pulls her in for a kiss. "And _you_ must be Lady Ume!" He turns his attention to the woman in question, and launches into what essentially constitutes an interview.

Warm fingers wrap around her bicep. "Congratulations to the both of you." Zuko's breath tickles her ear.

She dips into a small bow and replies with a grin. "My deepest thanks for your wishes, your highness." She grins at his grimace.

The music shifts as string instruments take over, the melody enhanced by the occasional note from the tsungi horn. Ume perks up, remarking on just how much she likes this song.

Aang's eyes brighten. "Fire nation music! Lady Ume, would you do me the honor of accepting this dance?" He winks at Katara. "I'll make it up to you later, dearest wife."

She shakes her head in amusement. "Go."

The both of them take up the dance floor. "She seems like a lovely person," Katara remarks, seeing Ume laugh as she bows to Aang before taking up her position. "I’ll admit, though, I’m rather surprised", she eyes Zuko slyly. "I always thought you had a type- you know, a dash of blade-wielding. A load of butt-kicking. With a side of scary."

Zuko rolls his eyes, then tilts his head to look at his fiancé fondly. "You haven’t seen her in action at council meetings. Absolutely frightening." His brow furrows. "I _do_ have a type," he mutters.

They watch as the pair start to move together. "It comes so easily to him. Making friends," Zuko notes.

"That's Aang for you."

"Yeah." He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a breath. "By the way, you look..." Katara glances at the firebender next to her. He's staring at a spot on the floor. "Nice."

In spite of the chilly night air, Katara feels heat start to spread through her body. "Your abundant praise is overwhelming." She attempts dry off-handedness, but the way her voice falters at the last words might have betrayed her.

Zuko opens his mouth, on the brink of saying something, then decides to shut it. His gold eyes search her blue ones. 

He finally speaks. "You belong in blue."

Katara knows it _means_ something. She just doesn't know what. 

She studies him curiously. "Yeah, I guess I do." 

Aang and Ume are twirling- him as light on his feet as ever and her the very picture of grace.

She suddenly finds herself with Zuko’s hand thrust under her nose.  "The song’s almost over." His voice is rougher than usual, his gaze fixed resolutely on the arm stretched before him. "Humor me."

Katara freezes. It’s his expression- he’s both defensive and wary. The tip of his fingers twitch. He’s still refusing to meet her eyes, but he doesn’t need to. Sure, he’s better at hiding his emotions now, but Katara’s better at reading them too. 

Whatever she’s reading at that moment confuses her, though.

Her hesitancy surprises her; she doesn’t quite understand it. _Zuko’s a friend. This is a dance. It’s your wedding._

She raises her hand a fraction.

Before she can take any further action, Toph whips out of nowhere and grabs her wrist, tugging her away. "Sweetness, you have _got_ to help me get rid of that Kanto guy."

Katara shoots Zuko an apologetic look, mouthing ‘ _I owe you a dance’_. Her heart hammers in her chest as she attempts the squash the strange mixture of relief and disappointment that’s welling in her. He just stands there, chin up and shoulders square- every inch the Firelord he is. But all Katara sees is this radiating vulnerability, and it looks _wrong_.

What the _hell_ is this?

Katara spots Aang in the crowd, entertaining guests with his dance moves. He catches her eye and waves merrily. There’s a tug in her stomach.

Still clutching her hand, Toph frowns. "Hey. Everything okay, Sweetness? It’s your _wedding_."

Yeah. Today is her wedding.

Katara nods. "It is." She swallows through the knot that has formed in her throat. And it hits her. Like a bolt of lightning to the chest. "I’m married now."


	6. 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a continuation of my one-shot posted on FFN called "Dark Side of the Moon", part of my Tales of Four Nations collection, in which Katara goes to the Spirit Oasis with Zuko to find a way to heal the darkness in her (the part that’s angry, jealous, that wants revenge for her mother’s death, etc..) and comes to terms with herself, and accepts all parts of her.  
> This is basically what happens straight after, from Zuko’s POV; I just wanted some fluff after "23"’s heartbreaking wedding, heh. (Didn't really turn out that way though...)

**Link to:[Dark Side of the Moon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8436046/chapters/23069997)**

 

**28.**

* * *

 

Zuko finds himself at the North Pole for the second time in his life when he’s twenty-eight. 

Once, he thinks as the cold bites into his skin, would have been more than enough.

_Oh, but the things I do for this woman._

Shaking his head discreetly, he eyes the woman in question, whose arm is looped through his. Katara already looks _lighter_ , somehow. The lines between her eyebrows are smoother, her shoulders are straighter. Zuko knows what it’s like, to hate the darkness that resides in you. He also knows it’s what makes her _Katara_ \- she may be bossy and vindictive, but she’s fierce and protective, with this endless capacity to care.

There’s _nothing_ about her that needs changing. She has to see that.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her bury her face in his scarf to hide a smile. He thinks she’s starting to.

Reaching the frozen expanse just beyond the bridge separating them from the warm Oasis, Zuko shivers. "How do you _deal_ with this cold?" 

"You get used to it." Katara’s grin is teasing.

He scoffs and lifts his chin. "I’m a firebender. I’ll never get used to it."

"Pity." She pats his parka. "You look good in blue."

Looking down at his parka and gloved hands, Zuko pulls a face. _Like hell I do._ He says nothing, opting instead to reply with a snort. 

"Sorry," Katara shrugs. "It’s my dark side."

She bursts into giggles when he makes a show of extracting himself from her to give her a light shove.

Druk, his five-year-old dragon, is curled up a hundred feet away, wings wrapped tightly against his scaled body to ward off the cold. Druk was a gift from the Sun Warriors on his twenty-third birthday, a beautiful gold and purple egg that hatched weeks later to reveal a tiny red dragon the size of his palm. He’s now bigger than a polar bear-dog, able to carry two people without as much as a groan. Below tropical temperatures, however, make the dragon grumpy. Zuko sympathizes.

"We’re coming, Druk," he calls out reassuringly. 

He’s almost half-way there when his feet refuse to move. Glancing down, he spots two mounds of ice wrapped around his ankles, trapping him.

He twists around to face the waterbender responsible for his current situation. 

She’s standing there, arms slightly raised, fingers spread out in bending position.  "Please. Just...wait."

Zuko forces himself not to melt off the ice from his boots.  " What is it? "

Katara’s blue eyes are wide when she blinks at him.

"One last spar." Her gaze doesn’t waver. It roots him to the spot more efficiently than her ice does. "I need this. I need to...I need to get it all out."

Taking a deep breath, Zuko removes his gloves and clenches his fists. "Fine." He looks down at his hands. Without warning, he lifts them and shoots two rapid fireballs in Katara’s direction.

It takes her a split second to react to Zuko’s attack, but she recovers quickly, ducking from the heat that flies in her direction. Thrusting her hand forward, she shoots him with a blast of water. He sidesteps and ripostes with a punch, sending a column of fire towards the waterbender. Katara spins away. She summons a water whip, wrapping it around Zuko’s ankle and drags him closer. 

Two fire daggers appear in his hands, slashing at the whip, freeing him. He rolls in the snow and gets to his feet, catching his breath. When he meets her eye, his lips twitch.

It’s exhilarating, fighting Katara. At that moment, as water clashes against fire, he realizes just how much he’s missed it. They’ve never held back against each other. She’s a fearsome adversary- he knows that from experience. What he also knows, though, is that she’s an even more redoubtable ally. They _work_.

The fight is relentless. Ice and fire erupt across the frigid landscape of the North Pole; a twisted, inverted replica of their dance years ago. She’s giving it her all, and he’s returning the favor.

With a grunt, Katara sends a wave of water straight to his chest. Zuko conjures up a wall of fire and to two elements clash to dissolve into a blast of steam .

The thick mist temporarily blinds them both. Zuko, however, has an advantage. Katara may be a formidable bender, but stealth has never been her strength.The sound of snow crackling under her footsteps is enough to guide Zuko to her exact position.

It only takes seconds for him to slide in behind her and wrap one arm around her neck, palm facing upwards to summon a small flame. She gasps in surprise. His other hand grabs both her wrists and pins them against her own stomach.

" I win. "

Katara swears. They’re both catching their breath, and the sound of their pants is deafening in the icy silence of the North Pole’s landscape.

Zuko pulls her closer, lips brushing the outer shell of her ear.  " Feeling better? " It comes out as a whisper.

She swallows; Zuko feels her throat move through thick layers of cloth, feels her pulse beating erratically against his fingers around her wrists. He fights to suppress a shiver. He isn’t cold anymore- not with the fire spreading through his body, burning him from inside out. He tightens his grip and the flame in his palm flickers a little brighter. His fingers curl into a fist.

It makes him wonder, not for the first time, who the real firebender in this relationship is.

Her head shifts, causing long strands of dark hair to tickle his good cheek.  "Yeah," she finally says. With each breath, her back leans against his chest. The back of her thighs are pressed against his legs. She smells of sea salt and spring, of _home_ , and despite the Agni-knows-how-many layers of cloth separating them, it feels intimate in a way that _shouldn’t_ between friends.

It’s that final thought that makes Zuko release her, and the sudden cold hits him all the harder.

_I can’t do this._

Because that’s what they are; _friends_. No matter how many shots of lightning he takes to the chest or how many times she looks at him as if... _yeah_ , as if. They both have separate lives, with different people, and he has to get back to his. He has to let go.

"Good." It comes out harsher than he intends. "Let’s get away from this place."

He doesn’t look back as he marches towards Druk. Hearing his master approach, the dragon uncurls his body and spread his wings, getting ready to take off. Zuko hoists himself up before extending a helping hand to the waterbender. She climbs up without a word.

Druk takes off as Zuko places a slight pressure against his neck, and the sudden movement causes Katara to wrap her arms around the firebender’s waist. It’s a familiar gesture- this is a two-way trip, after all- but Zuko stiffens anyway. If she notices, she doesn’t say anything. 

They’re miles away from the Oasis before she presses herself closer, leaning towards his right ear. Suddenly, he can’t focus on anything but her warm body against his back. "Thanks," she murmurs.

Whether it’s for bringing her to the North Pole, for his speech at the Oasis or for the impromptu spar session- he doesn’t know, and she doesn’t say. He can’t bring himself to ask (she’s too _close_ , and he’s too _scared_ ), so he just nods. The rest of the trip is spent in silence.

Mai was right. He _is_ a coward.

Upon his return to the Fire Nation, Ume greets him with a smile, and places his nine-month-old daughter in his arms. Zuko drops a kiss on Izumi’s forehead and clutches her tightly to his chest.

He doesn’t see Katara again for years.


	7. 33

**33.**

* * *

Katara is thirty-three when she’s pregnant for the third time.

It’s a boy, she’s sure of it.

She’s in their living room, mending a hole in one of Kya’s blue dresses when Bumi comes running, dragging his little sister behind by the hand.

"Mum! Mum, Kya is _bending_." His light blue eyes are wide, and he’s practically vibrating on the spot with excitement.

Flabbergasted, Katara turns to her daughter. It isn’t possible. She’s _three_ , for Tui’s sake.

The boy gives his sister a small shove. " _Show_ her, Kya!" He points at a bucket of water on the ground.

Bumi’s encouragement is all the young girl needs. Shooting her mother a shy glance, she frowns in concentration and lifts her hands over the bucket. Light ripples appear on the surface. Seconds later, they disappear as Kya drops her arms, panting.

Katara’s mouth drops and her heart leaps in her chest. "Oh, _honey_ , that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you." She cups her daughter’s cheeks and drops a kiss on her forehead. 

Her daughter, a _waterbender_.

"Yeah, Kya. I told you it was cool." Bumi stares at his sister, his expression a striking mix ofpleasure and envy. 

He’s only five, so it’s still a little too early to tell, but Bumi so far hasn’t displayed any bending ability. It’s something she knows weighs on the young boy’s mind, and the recent development isn’t going to be much help.

She tugs him close. "Hey," she whispers, "I’m proud of you, too."

He shoots her a look. " _I_ didn’t do anything."

"Are you kidding?" Katara smiles. "Do you know how hard it is to be an awesome and supportive sibling? Ask your uncle Sokka." She smirks as Bumi laughs. "Besides, together with aunt Suki, they’re the fiercest warriors I know, and they’re nonbenders." Pulling him in for a hug, she ruffles his dark hair. "Kya couldn’t ask for a better big brother."

He leans against her shoulder. "Thanks, mum."

She presses her lips to his temple.  "I love you. And you," she adds, sending her daughter a wink. And she _does_. She loves them both- her rambunctious, big-hearted son and her sweet, talented daughter- so much, it swells in her chest to a point where she can hardly breathe. 

"Dad!"

Katara looks up at her son’s cry to find Aang leaning against the living room doorframe, a smile on his face at the sight that greets him. 

"What is it, Bumi?"

"Kya’s bending!"

Katara doesn’t miss the way Aang’s eyebrows shoot up at Bumi’s revelation. She sees his excitement grow, his eyes start to sparkle- the way they used to, when he would learn something new. She realizes how much she was starting to miss that look.

Encouraged by her mother’s enthusiasm, the young girl instantly turns her attention to the bucket, and performs for her father.

And that’s when Katara sees it- the way Aang’s mouth tightens, the way his eyes dim. 

Oh, _Aang._

Her stomach clenches and something heavy settles in her chest. She feels stifled, oppressed. Aang hasn’t hidden his desire for an airbender in the family. It’s no secret. It doesn’t stop him from loving his kids; she knows that, and so do they.

It doesn’t help, though, when his disappointment is so palpable. 

"That’s great, Kya." His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Katara feels something digging into her wrists, and looks down. Bumi’s fingers are clenched so hard around her wrist his knuckles have turned white. His nails bite into her skin. 

He’s looking at his father with such _fury_ it shocks Katara.

"Come on." He tears himself away from his mother and grabs Kya’s hand, refusing to glance in his father’s direction. "You have to show me how you start building those little snowmen."

The two children head towards the front door, leaving their parents behind in the living room. For a minute, there are no words exchanged.The silence is interrupted only by the soft crackling of fire in the corner.

"Aang-" she starts softly.

He gives her a curt nod, smiling tightly. "Congratulations, Katara. It’s wonderful to have another waterbender in the family." Without another word, he spins on his heels and exits the room.

Katara lets out a tiny, frustrated cry, and slumps on the sofa. 

Aang loves his children. Of course he does. She just wishes his displays of affection were a little less...conditional, she supposes. 

Placing a hand on the soft curve of her belly, she leans down to bring her lips as close as possible to her bump. "Please, baby," she whispers, "please."

Their third child will be an airbender, she can feel it.

He _has_ to be.


	8. 38

**38.**

* * *

 

Zuko is thirty-eight when his wife dies.

Just like...that. She’s here one second, gone the next.

Congenital heart defect, the healers says. There was nothing they could do, nothing they could fix. It was _nature._

As flames engulf the smooth wooden coffin holding the body of his departed spouse, he can’t help but think there’s nothing less _natural_ that this.

The wake was held in the Capital’s plaza, with people from all over the Fire Nation coming to pay their respects. Smoke from incense sticks rose in the air, heads were bowed in respect and mourning, but Zuko can hardly remember any of that. It’d felt like a bad dream.

It still does.

The cremation, upon Zuko’s request, takes place within the palace walls, far from the public eye. In fact, the cremation hall is empty, save for Zuko and Izumi. Guards are posted on the other side of the large metal door, keeping people from entering.

The smaller hand tucked in his squeezes, and Zuko looks down. Izumi is staring straight ahead, chin up, eyes glistening with moisture she refuses to brush away. He squeezes back.

" You don’t have to stay. " His voice is rough with disuse. He swallows. "Your mother wouldn’t want you to be sad."

"Then she shouldn’t have died."

Her gold eyes widen at her own outburst, and she clamps a hand over her mouth. She turns to face her father, her expression one of horror, and blinks. "I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I didn’t-" she whispers, voice cracking.

Zuko’s heart breaks. 

He releases her hand, only to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. The warmth of his daughter in his arms is all that matters in that moment. "I know," he murmurs into her hair. 

Izumi buries her face in his shoulder, clutching his dark, ceremonial robes tightly. Zuko’s hand reaches up to cradle the back of her head. She doesn’t make a noise, but Zuko feels her shoulders shake with silent sobs. 

Minutes pass in silence. The young girl’s voice is tiny when she speaks. "I miss her already." 

He screws his eyes shut and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

Izumi’s a twelve-year-old child without a mother. It isn’t _fair_.

But life isn’t fair, and Zuko knows that- better than most. Still, it doesn’t make it _right_.

He’ll do everything he can to make it easier for her, though. He has to try.

Zuko presses his lips against her temple. "Go get some rest, Izumi. I’ll take care of everything here. I’ll see you later." 

His daughter nods, drying her eyes with the silk sleeves of her tunic. She untangles herself from his grasp, and casts a last look at the burning coffin, before she heads towards the door. His gaze follows Izumi out of the hall, then shifts back to the blazing furnace. He stares, unblinking, at the orange flames that dance before his eyes until his vision turns blurry. He doesn’t hear someone enter the hall until a voice shatters his daze.

"She was a good woman."

He recognizes the feminine voice, but its compassionate tone is a jarring change, foreign to his ears. He glances to his right; Azula is facing the fire, the flames casting shadows across her face.

"She was." He passes a hand over his eyes in exhaustion. "I’m...I’m glad you’re here. How are you?"

Azula tucks a strand of hair that has fallen from her topknot. "Better. The past few weeks have been good ones." She shoots him a wry smile. "It would seem that the both of us being happy at the same time would wreak havoc to the delicate balance of the universe."

Zuko’s jaw twitches. "The balance of the universe can suck it."

"That’s no way for the Fire Lord to talk." Azula’s quick smile falls. She drops her chin, and sighs. "I’m sorry. About Ume."

Zuko’s breath catches. The words are completely unexpected- Azula has always been unpredictable. Without warning, tears that until then had utterly evaded him spring from somewhere deep in his chest. He pinches the bridge of his nose, fighting against the lump that forms in his throat.

Azula slips a hand in his. "Hey. It’s going to be okay."

He shakes his head, chasing away tears and that darkness in his head. "You don’t know that. I can’t-" 

"You _can_. You’re Zuko, you-" She clears her throat, and Zuko senses her discomfort. The thought, despite everything, almost makes him smile. Azula’s not one for uplifting speeches. "You never give up without a fight." Her fingers tighten around his hand. "So _fight_."

But he’s so _tired_.

"I’ve missed you." It comes out as a croak. "They’re all gone- one by one. Mom, Ozai. Lu Ten and Uncle. Ume."

Azula digs her elbow into Zuko’s ribs. "You’ve helped me when I needed it- even if I didn’t want it." Her dark gold eyes glitter. "I’m better now, and I’m not going anywhere. " She briefly leans her head against his shoulder. "You’re going to be alright."

He ignores the voice in his head that whispers _Azula always lies_.

As if she could read his mind, Azula shrugs. "It would be easier to lie, yes. Wy lie, though, when the truth is so painful?" She lets go of his arm. "The hardest thing in this world," she tells him, heading towards the thick metal doors, "is to live in it. That’s what we’re asking you to do, Izumi and I."

She pauses, one foot out the door. "It’s something Uncle used to say. When Lu Ten died." The words do resonate with the familiarity of an Uncle Iroh proverb. "I thought you might need to hear it."

Zuko watches his sister leave, her parting words of wisdom lingering in his mind.


	9. 45

 

**45.**

* * *

 

She’s forty-five when her father passes away peacefully in his sleep.

She’d prepared herself for that moment; but it doesn’t stop her from missing him so _terribly_.

Sokka is elected chief of the Southern Water Tribe. Choosing to step down from his position as Chairman of the United Republic Council, he moves back to the South Pole to accept his newfound duties. Suki decides to join him as her ‘early retirement plan’, as their twins, Lian and Erika, take on their mother’s mantle as joint leaders of the Kyoshi Warriors back on the island.

One of his first actions as chieftain is to reinforce the good, solid relations between the Southern Tribe and the Fire Nation.

Basically, he invites one of his best friends to a week-long sleepover in the South Pole.

Druk lands one morning on the icy banks of the South Pole, unleashing a torpedo of fire through the harsh, freezing morning air. After Zuko and Izumi climb down from his back, he takes off again in search of hotter climes- he never did like the cold. Father and daughter are huddled in the thickest furs available in the Fire Nation, shivering as the cold bites the slightest bit of exposed skin. Their smiles, though, are pure warmth as they catch sight of their welcoming committee.

Bumi brushes past his mother and uncle. After a hasty but respectful bow in Zuko’s direction, much to the Firelord’s amusement, he grabs Izumi and pulls her into a tight hug. The young woman is as composed and graceful as Bumi is brash and exuberant, but ever since their first meeting almost fifteen years ago, they’ve gotten along like a house on fire. Katara has always found that both odd and charming.

Kya pops up behind her brother, chattering excitedly. The Fire Nation princess lets Bumi go and scoops up the younger girl into her arms. Over Kya’s shoulder, Izumi spots Katara and waves, a huge grin on her face.

Sokka and Suki greet them with jokes and hugs. Sokka grabs their bags, despite Zuko’s protests, and Suki fusses over Izumi’s thin scarf.

Katara, on the other hand, hangs back. She’s jittery, brimming with nervous energy. Zuko’s _here._ They’ve seen each other regularly over the past few years, but the reunions mostly happen in a formal setting, surrounded by people. She hasn’t had a head-to-head with him in forever. And now here he is, for a week, and she realizes she isn’t sure how to act.

The revelation is unsettling, to say the least.

Zuko catches her eye, and shoots her a small smile. She barely has time to answer before he’s whisked away with his daughter- Sokka has taken it upon himself to guide them to the guest hut.

She lets out a huff of breath, watching the resulting steam rise from her lips, and heads back home.

* * *

He finds her, hours later, sitting in front of a fire in her living room with a bowl of rice wine in her hand and a bottle at her feet. There’s a bag hanging from his shoulder.

"Sokka tells me Aang is away with Tenzin. Kyoshi Island, is it?"

She nods, taking a sip from the bowl resting between her palms. She gestures to the spot next to her on the couch and holds out the bottle of wine.

It feels like Aang is always away, these days. Bumi and Kya feel it more than anyone else.

Zuko stares at the bottle for a second, before taking it from her and sitting by her side. He sets the bag down beside him.

The flame from the fire flickers, casting shadows across his face. Zuko’s, what, forty-seven now? He still keeps his hair short, just long enough to pull into a topknot. Streaks of gray are starting to show at the roots. Her eyes travel from his temple to his cheekbones, that responsibility and passing years haven’t dulled in the slightest. Her fingers twitch when her gaze falls on his scar. The slightest of wrinkles have started to appear at the corner of his right eye.

Age, she finds, seems to suit Zuko.

"It’s good to see you again," she tells him.

Gold eyes lock on blue. "Same." His mouth quirks up. Lifting the bottle to his lips, he takes a long swig.

Katara’s eyes are fixed on the way his throat moves, the way his muscles tense and relax beneath pale skin. There’s a pull in her lower abdomen, and she shifts slightly in her seat. Her lips seem to have suddenly gone dry; she blames it partly on the alcohol that’s started to stroll through her system.

She gives herself a mental shake. "So, how have you been? Really."

The light in his eyes dim, just a little. "I’m...okay. It’s getting better." His fingers absently trace the bottle. "Nine years already," he exhales.

After nine years, it still hurts. She knows how that feels. You never get over losing someone you love, not really. "Izumi’s turning out to be quite a young woman."

There’s no mistaking the pride that spreads across his face. "She is. One day, she’ll be a wonderful Firelord, if that’s what she wants."

"Well, she learnt from the best."

His gaze is burning when it meets hers. "Thanks, Katara," he says softly. He clears his throat. "You’ve done a pretty spectacular job with yours, as well."

She shrugs, attempting to lighten the mood. "I like to think so, too. I _did_ bring them up," she adds with mock haughtiness.

Zuko laughs, and _oh_ how she has missed the sound. She can’t stop the smile that graces her lips as his eyes crinkle and his lips curl. He’s almost breathtaking like this.

She shifts again to face Zuko, and pulls one leg up onto the couch. Placing one elbow on the back of the couch, she rests her head against her open palm. "Tell me, how’s Toph? Haven’t seen her in ages. How are the kids? Aang said Suyin’s proving to be quite the troublemaker."

He’s still smiling when he answers. "She’s fine, last time I saw her. Ruling the Police Force with an iron fist." They both grin at the terrible pun. "And yes, Suyin’s going to be quite a handful for both her sister and her mother."

He pauses to take another sip from the bottle. "Toph misses you. More than she’ll admit."

Warmth blooms in Katara’s chest. She misses her friend, too. "Tell her I’ll stop by soon."

"Oh! Speaking of."

Zuko twists in his seat to grab the bag he had brought with him. Reaching inside, he pulls out an old, tattered hat covered with a thin veil.

Katara gasps. "My Painted Lady hat! How-"

Zuko gently places the hat on her head. "Toph happened to stop by Jang Hui on one of her rounds. They’d kept it as memorabilia. She thought you might want to have it back."

She adjusts it, letting the veil fall in front of her eyes, and beams. "Thank you, Zuko!"

He says nothing for a moment, before leaning forward, setting his forearms on his knees. "It’s been years, now, but I believe you still owe me a dance."

She swears her heart stutters in her chest. She blinks at him. "There’s no music." It comes out as a whisper.

His eyes search hers, looking for something Katara isn’t quite sure she can give him. "I don’t care if you don’t."

She doesn’t.

She’s aware of how her fingers are shaking when she stands up and extends her hand. He takes it without a word, slipping her fingers through hers; the shaking stops. The other hand rests on her waist.

That’s when she realizes it.

Dancing with Aang- it’s demonstrative, ceremonial. It’s a fun, enjoyable spectacle meant for everyone to share.

But dancing with Zuko is like sparring with him- instinctive and personal. It’s visceral. It’s just the two of them. No music, no audience. The rhythm is set by their feet and their heartbeat, as their steps follow a natural progression imposed only by their intuition.

They’re partners, that’s what they are. It’s what they’ve always been.

The dance slows down, and Katara leans her veil-covered cheek onto Zuko’s shoulder, willing her breathing to return to normal. She has one hand cupped around the back of his neck, the other presses on his chest. His own rest on her waist.

"It’s one of my favorite legends. The Painted Lady," he murmurs. They’re slowly turning in circles, wrapped in each other’s arms. For a while, whatever’s outside her small living room ceases to exist.

"Oh, really?" Her cheek rises and falls with each one of his breaths.

"Mhm. There was always something tragically poetic about a water spirit helping a struggling Fire Nation village. Some say she’s connected to the Moon Spirit. Figures you’d pick _her_ out of all Fire Nation folklore. You seem to have a penchant for saving Fire Nation lost causes."

The self-depreciation she hasn’t heard from him in years causes her to lift her head. "Hey-"

The dancing stops. One hand lets go of her waist. "I think," his voice is quiet, "her markings look like this."

Katara stills as his thumb rests against her forehead, before tracing a crescent shape. His other hand comes up beneath the veil, and both thumbs start from her temples, over her eyelids that have fluttered close, down the sides of her nose. The pressure temporarily eases, then she feels his fingers over her cheekbones, under her jaw. Her eyes are still closed when she feels the lightest touch under her bottom lip, trailing down her chin.

Her breath catches in her throat.

"If you want me to stop," she _feels_ his words on her lips, doesn’t miss the light tremor in his voice, "just say so. I will."

Oh, she should. She really, _really_ should. She swallows. "No."

She starts when his lips brush against hers through the veil. The strange texture against her mouth sends sparks through her body, and her eyes fly open to find his own amber ones glittering back at her in the firelight, both wary and intent. There isn’t a hint of inebriation.

 _This_. This has been here for a long time now. Building up behind some imaginary dam, slowly gathering force, increasing the pressure.

All it takes is a crack for the dam to break.

The rice wine, Katara thinks, is that crack in the dam. It’s the match that has lit the fire, and now she’s watching it burn.

She lifts the veil from her face, knocking back the hat in the process, but she barely has time to register anything as Zuko pulls her into a kiss.

There’s traces of rice wine on his lips, and the hint of something salty. Her hand sinks into the strands of inky black hair at his nape; she needs _more._ Zuko slips one hand behind her neck to bring her closer, fingers playing with the curls behind her ear. She lets out a small moan against his mouth.

He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, until all Katara feels is his mouth on hers, his warm hands on her body, his steady heartbeat under her palm.

She can’t remember the last time she’s felt this way.

Her hand slips down his chest, and Zuko pins it in place, pressing it close. She feels it, under his tunic. It’s subtle, the barest hint of raised skin beneath thick fabric, but she’d recognize it anywhere. His scar.

Her fingers dig into the skin, entirely unconsciously, but it causes Zuko to break the kiss and look at her, gold eyes scorching.

What she sees there- it’s a revelation. And Katara suddenly understands.

She loves Aang with all her heart. There’s no question about it. But she’s not _in love_ with him- not anymore. She wonders briefly if she ever was.

Zuko, though...

They’re _partners_.

He presses his lips lightly against her pulse point, just the barest touch that sends shivers down to her toes.

"Katara," there’s a rough tenderness in his voice that makes her stomach flip, "I-"

"Mum?" Kya’s voice breaks through the hazy pleasure that clouds her mind. Her hand falls from his chest and she steps back from Zuko just in time; her daughter enters the living room.

"Mum, Dad just sent a letter. He’ll be here tomorrow. He says-" her voice falters, as her gaze shifts from her mother to the Firelord standing two feet away. Zuko is staring at the floor, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. "He says he’s excited about the visitors, and he can’t wait to see the royal family again."

Zuko speaks first. "Thank you, Kya." He turns to Katara. "I should probably-"

"Oh, no, it’s fine!" The young girl’s outburst surprises them both. "I just thought I’d let you know about the letter." Kya bites her lip. "I’m going to go, don’t worry. Goodnight, Mum." She shoots Katara a look that the older woman can’t quite decipher. "Goodnight, Fire- sorry, Zuko."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Katara calls out as her daughter retreats.

A heavy silence fills the room following Kya’s exit.

Katara knows what her heart wants, now, though it’s taken her years to figure it out. But she’s Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, wife of the Avatar- nurturer, sister, mother, supporter- and her family needs her. What her heart wants has never been a priority.

It still isn’t- but it’s never hurt _this much_ before.

"I’m-"

She spins to face him, cutting him off with a furious glare. "If you _dare_ apologize, Zuko, I swear-" Hot tears start to prick at the corner of her eyes, and she hates it.

"No! No. I wouldn’t." He runs a hand through his hair, and glances at her. "Not for that."

It’s what she wants to hear, but her heart breaks anyway. It occurs to her how much easier this would have been if neither of them cared. _What have I done_ , she thinks. _What do I do?_ She sinks down onto the couch, head hanging low.

"I- I’m yours, Katara."

She freezes when he takes one of her hands in his and places it just above his scar, just as it was minutes ago. She feels the bumpy, rough texture beneath her palms. His other hand reaches out to cup her face, and his breath tickles her cheek. "Tell me what you want."

Yeah, she knows what she wants. She just can’t have it.

A wave of exhaustion overcomes her, and a weight settles in her chest. "Aang is coming back tomorrow, with one of my children. I’m going to bed, Zuko." She catches the hurt that flashes across his face, and looks away. She can’t handle that right now. Picking up her Painted Lady hat, she hands it to Zuko. Their hands brush; she doesn’t pull away. " _She’s_ yours, though."

She leaves the firebender in the living room with the hat and most of her heart.

* * *

The next day, Aang returns with Tenzin.

Katara cooks for her family and their guests, reprimands Bumi when he playfully picks on his younger brother, and thanks her husband for the ornamental fan he brought back from Kyoshi Island with a hug.

It’s back to status quo. At least on the outside.

If someone notices Zuko helping out in the kitchen, or the way Katara’s hand lingers a little longer when she’s passing him the salt, they don’t ever mention it.


	10. An Interlude In Azula Major

Azula walks past corridors of marble pillars and statues of Ai Ku's Medical Sanctuary to reach the Meditation Garden. A wooden bridge sits across the little stream that cuts through the lush greenery. Sitting on that bridge, a lone figure gazes at the water, shoulders hunched and feet dangling over the edge.

His gray-streaked hair is haphazardly pulled back into a messy topknot- on top of which his gold crown rests crookedly- and the dark lines under his eyes are so pronounced, they seem etched into his skin.

Looks like he still hasn't recovered from his trip to the South Pole.

There was once a time when Azula would have delighted in seeing her brother in such a state of exhaustion and misery. Now, all it does is trouble her. Oh, how things change.

But as they say, the more things change-

"You look like shit."

\- the more they stay the same.

Zuko shoots her a _look_ , gold eyes glinting, before he catches sight of the packet of unauthorized fireflakes she's brought along. (Such a stupid rule, really- as if not consuming these spicy delicious snacks would prevent a mental breakdown. It just makes her grumpy.)

"Where'd you get those?"

She hands him the open packet, and Zuko takes a handful of salty flakes. The familiar action makes her smile; he never could resist them. "Izumi brought them over a few days ago." She grins as he raises his eyebrows.

"She came over for a visit?"

"Don't sound so surprised. First of all, I'm a bad-ass aunt, okay?" She whacks Zuko on the arm when he lets out a gently derisive snort. "And second of all..." she takes a seat next to her brother, letting her feet swing above the stream, "of course she visits me from time to time. She's her father's daughter."

She sneaks a side glance at the Firelord, and gives his shoulder a nudge when he doesn't reply. "I mean that in the best way, Zuzu." She can't pinpoint the exact time the nickname went from mocking to affectionate, but she's glad it did.

Azula eyes the crown on his head, a crown she used to think belonged to her. It feels like a lifetime ago, now. She lets herself smile.

Oh, Agni. It's taken her years to recognize this feeling and even longer to admit it to herself, but shit, she's _proud_. Proud and yes, maybe a little awed, but also envious.

Of the way he's led his nation towards a time of peace despite multiple staged coups and assassination attempts; despite the constant backlash from both his government and people, unhappy with a leader who dares help the Avatar and the Water Tribe peasants to the detriment of his kind; who they'd deemed a traitor to the Crown. (She would know- she'd been one of the most vocal dissidents, after all.)

Of the way he's built his family; raising a smart, ambitious, _good_ young lady fit to be the future Firelord.

Of the way he's taken the life she'd planned for herself and made it his own, something she had initially deeply resented, but that later morphed into a sort of grudging respect.

Because Azula sees, now, what her brother has become. In spite of an absent mother. In spite of a manipulative, cruel sister; of their abusive father- she sees _that_ now, too.

 _The lies, the false praise, the calculating remarks._ Her eyes quickly travel across Zuko's face as he keeps his gaze focused on the water, and flicker to the royal robes that cover his torso. She flinches. _The scars_.

Or maybe it's shaped them both, to be who they are today. Maybe it's made them stronger. (She doesn't really believe that, not anymore. Pain and fear should never be used as tools to shape one's children. It's a lesson she- no, _they-_ have learnt the hard way.)

Azula pulls in one knee and tucks it under her chin. "I'm proud of you, Zuko." She's never said it out loud before. It's a strange feeling, but not entirely unwelcome.

Zuko's reaction, however, is unexpected. He starts laughing- a soft chuckle that bubbles from his chest into a sound that's both deprecating and desperate.

"You _would_ be proud of me in this situation." His expression is one of hollow mirth. "Years spent trying to do the right thing, making up for our past mistakes. Wanting to be _honorable_. And then I just-" He cuts himself off, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Azula frowns, unsure of where he's going with this. Then- _oh_. Of course. "What happened with the waterbender?"

"Her name's _Katara_." She sees it, the way her name slips from his lips without him even realizing it. A Water Tribe name said with such reverence by a Fire Lord- it's jarring, and he isn't even _aware_. His expression shifts when he catches on to her question, and he glances at her sharply. "How did you-"

Azula shrugs. "Honor. South Pole." She may not get along with people, but she _knows_ them. And she knows _him_ , best of all. "Don't forget, I've witnessed first hand the stupid, reckless things you do when she's involved."

Her fingertips tingle at the memory. A sudden yearning for that overwhelming surge of power takes her by surprise, and she clenches her fist.

She doesn't miss old Azula, not really, but sometimes she wishes she were... _more_ , somehow. She gives herself a mental shake. _That's enough._

"Huh, you know, I used to think you'd end up with her. The Firelord and his Water Tribe wife. After all, you'd already betrayed the Fire Nation in so many other ways, what was one more?" Her previous train of thought has put her in a foul mood, and her teasing remark comes out more scathing than intended.

Zuko's face is a blank mask, with only his gold eyes flashing with hurt at her words- but it's enough for Azula. Her fingers dig into her palms. It comes so easily to her, causing her brother pain- and she _hates_ it.

 _Sorry, Zuko._ She means those words, somewhere deep inside. But she's never been able to say them out loud- Agni knows how hard she's tried. They taste foreign on her tongue, a tangy mix of regret and shame, and she swallows them back down. Like she always does.

 _He knows_ , she tells herself. Her fingers hesitantly brush the crook of his elbow, a pale substitute of an apology. Zuko looks down, and doesn't pull away. She tightens her grip. _He knows._

There's a list of things Azula should probably talk to her brother about- mostly warnings about dallying with the Avatar's wife- but she won't. Not when the tense curve of his shoulders and the tightness around his eyes scream that those are things he's all too aware of.

Instead, she leans against Zuko's shoulder and asks him just _what_ _is it_ that makes the waterbender special. Azula watches the lines on his face soften as he talks about a defiant, brave girl with a heart big enough to forgive an angry prince, who sees the best in him when he just _can't_. Gold irises spark to life as he describes a fierce, blinding _light_ who refuses to let darkness take over her, who just gives and gives and never wants to take.

His voice cracks a little, and so does his sadness- giving way to specks of wistful wonder for this woman Azula doesn't really know, but who seems to _get_ her brother in a way no one ever has.

Azula's gone through her fair share of healing, these past years.

Whether this _Katara_ plays a role in it or not, she thinks maybe it's time for Zuko's scars to heal soon, too.


	11. 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Toph have a talk

**53.**

Zuko is fifty-three when he realizes he's been Fire Lord for over thirty years, and still has another thirty to go until he can legitimately pass the crown to his daughter.

Rare are the times when he feels flashes of resentment towards his uncle for putting him on the throne at such a young age. Guilt over such sentiments are, on the other hand, rather commonplace. He smiles grimly at the thought, and shakes his head.

Today, however, is not the day to mull over these particular feelings. Today is a day for fond memories. Of those, he thinks, he has plenty- at least when it comes to Uncle.

Sitting in an empty  _Jasmine Dragon_ , he clasps his cup between his palms and waits for his tea-drinking partner to emerge from the kitchen. As if on cue, Toph appears, a pot in one hand and an empty cup in the other.

"Oolong", she says, and fills their cups to the brim.

She takes a seat. With a soft smile, the one she used to save for Uncle, she lifts her cup. Zuko does the same. It's a ritual they've shared every year for the past twenty years, one they wouldn't dare- and couldn't bear to- miss.

"To Uncle," they murmur, as gold meets milky green. The ensuing minute of silence is a strange mixture of sadness and comfort in each other's presence, but it's a mixture they've grown accustomed to during their yearly reunion, and they take refuge in its familiarity.

Toph breaks the silence first. "You look good, Sparky."

"Thanks, Toph. So do-" Zuko cuts himself off and rolls his eyes as his friend's shoulders shake in silent mirth. He shakes his head, amused. "Yeah, yeah. Nice." He takes a sip. "So, how have you been? How's the job? The girls?"

Toph smirks. "Job's fine. The Metalbending Police Force is really coming along nicely; the new recruits this year are a talented bunch. Ruling with an iron fist seems to be working out for me." She sniggers at her own pun. "As for the girls…"

Her grin falters. "It's funny, you know. I used to resent my parents for being what I thought was ridiculously overprotective. It made me brash, rebellious." She nibbles her lips. "Our relationship was…complicated. And I didn't want that for my kids."

She leans back, sighing. "And so, in true Bei Fong fashion, I jump over to the  _other_ extreme: giving them all the liberty in the world to  _do as they please_." She punctuates the last words mockingly, shooting Zuko a grimace. "Now, Lin is acting like the mother she never had, and Suyin's… acting  _out_."

Zuko shrugs. "They're still teens,  _barely_. Give them time."

Toph snorts. "Sparky, I'm not taking parenting advice from the man with the biggest daddy issues I have ever had the misfortune to meet. Although," she frowns, "you seem to have the healthiest family dynamic, so who knows? Maybe I  _should_  take a leaf out of your weird life scroll."

He doesn't say anything, just hides his smile behind his cup of tea. Because it's true. His family is small, now; but it's  _his_ , and they  _work._

"Speaking of," which is Toph-code for firmly changing the subject. "Congratulations to Izumi! What's the little one's name?"

"Mizuki." He smiles. "We've never seen little Iroh so excited. He takes his older brother role  _very_  seriously."

His petite friend laughs. "You're going to have your hands full with that one, Grandpa."

As they take another sip from their cups, her fingers drum on the table absently. Zuko studies her; the way her brow creases, the small scrunch of her nose. She's about to drop a bomb.

"When the girls are older," she suddenly speaks up, "I'd like to travel. Permanently. I'd love to see the world- metaphorically speaking, of course." She shoots him a smirk, then cocks her head to the side, her smirk slipping off her face. "Does that make me a bad parent? Wanting to be  _free_?"

Her voice is small, but her words resonate in the quiet of the coffee shop.

Zuko gives a shrug that she doesn't see. "I … I don't know, Toph." His fingers trace the edge of his cup, the tea now lukewarm between his palms. And honestly, he really doesn't. She's right; who gives him the right to hand out parenting advice? "Just…let us know, okay? Don't disappear on me. I kind of need you." His lips quirk in a half-smile. "You're the only one who still dares to give it to me straight.

He feels a pinch of satisfaction as Toph bursts into cackles. "Right, you really  _do_  need me, Sparky. Although, Katara gives me a run for my money in the straight talk department."

Zuko clears his throat. "Ah…we haven't really talked much, lately."

The earthbender's eyebrows disappear beneath her fringe. "Geez. What happened between you two? Honestly, all this  _weirdness_  between the both of you could be easily dealt with if you'd just  _bang_."

Zuko chokes on air. " _What?"_

"Please, Zuko." She shoots him a  _look,_  shaking her head. "Don't worry, I haven't told a soul. And I don't plan on doing so anytime soon."

Seconds pass before he answers, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why?"

She shrugs. "Because it's not my place." With a sigh, the brunette leans back in her chair. "Listen, I love Aang, and I love Katara. I do. But Aang-and-Katara? They're a disaster that  _never_  should have happened."

Zuko shifts in his seat. "That's harsh, Toph."

Toph shakes her head. "Maybe. Doesn't mean I'm wrong." She tilts her head, pensive. "Aang puts Katara on a pedestal; he holds her to standards  _no one_  could ever hope to reach- he doesn't even realize he's doing it- and Katara believes she has to uphold some impossible, insane level of perfection.  _Katara,_ on the other hand, feels that it's her duty to protect Aang from  _everything-_  you've seen how she shields him from difficult decisions, from his children's resentment, her own feelings of frustration, and oh, basic  _responsibility_."

She worries her bottom lip. "You and I both know that's not how you grow. You have to learn from your mistakes. Something I'm not sure Aang has ever grasped."

Her words sink in, and Zuko rubs his temples. "Maybe that's our fault, too. We've all played a role in shielding Aang from the world for far too long."

There's a tinge of irony in the smirk she sends his way. "Exactly. More than one person has been hurt in the process of protecting the Avatar and his feelings, wouldn't you say? Especially those closest to him."

He averts his gaze. As usual, Zuko is struck by how much his friend  _sees_. She could always read them better than they could read themselves.

Her expression softens. "Hey, I'm sorry." She runs a hand through her hair. "Like I said, Zuko, I won't say anything. Promise."

Toph stands up and stretches. Coming over to his side of the table, she picks up his cup in one hand and clasps the other on his shoulder. "Maybe... think about what I've said?" In an uncharacteristic gesture of affection, she deposits a kiss on his cheek. "I've got to go. Same time next year, Sparky?"

He squeezes her hand in reply before letting her go. "Yeah. Same time next year."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: Thank you ALL so much for all the feedback on the previous chapters, it means so so much to me. <3
> 
> Second of all: I can't for the life of me remember when/where I found the « Sparky » nickname, but it is perfect, okay? So credit wherever it's due (I'm so sorry!)


	12. 67.

**67.**

* * *

 

Katara is sixty-seven when she becomes a widow. Aang passes away at the ripe old age of sixty-five (a _hundred_ and sixty-five, she has to remind herself) and leaves her with three children, a legacy that weighs on her slowly aging shoulders and a house that suddenly feels frighteningly _empty_.

That’s why when Sokka asks her to spend a few days on Kyoshi Island, she accepts without a second thought.

A knock on the door cuts through the heavy silence in the guest room. 

Suki pops her head from behind the door. "Hey. How are you holding up?" She takes a seat on the bed next to Katara.

The waterbender flashes her friend a quick smile. "Better. Sorry for imposing on you guys."

Suki lets out a snort. "Are you kidding? We love having you around. It’s been too long." She wraps her arms around Katara and leans her head on her shoulder. A beat passes. "Give it time."

Aang’s laugh rings in Katara’s ears. She swallows. "I know."

"How are the kids?"

_Ah_. "Kya and Tenzin wanted to organize the funeral. They knew how important it was to Aang to have his ashes placed at the four Air Temples. Bumi…" A pause. "That’s a little more complicated." Things were _always_ a little more complicated between Bumi and his father.

Katara shakes her head clear. "I’ll join them in a couple of days."

Suki searches her face, a worry line creasing her sun-speckled forehead. "You can come back after, Katara. You know that, right? You don’t have to head back to the South Pole right away."

"She’s right."

Both women look up to find Sokka leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed. "Take a break, sis." His voice is light, but Katara doesn’t miss the quiet concern lacing his words.

It touches her, his concern, but catching breaks has never been part of the fabric of her life - one would think he ought to know that by now. She shakes her head. "I _have_ to go. The next Avatar will be born of the Water Tribes. I have to be there for them."

"What makes you think he’d be from the _Southern_ Water Tribe?"

Katara can’t help the derisive snort that escapes her mouth. "Where have you been the last fifty years, Sokka? With our luck, there’s no way the next Avatar is anything other _but_ Southern Water Tribe!"

Suki flops back on the bed, laughing. "My girl has a point, babe."

Shooting his wife an annoyed look, Sokka waves his arms. "Fine, there’s certainly a rather significant chance that he or she may be one of us, but it doesn’t mean it’s _your_ responsibility, Katara." His good humor suddenly slips. "I loved Aang, I did. But Katara, being married to the Avatar took its toll on you and- "

_No_. "Don’t start, Sokka." The warning is clear in her tone. "Not _now_."

"Then when, Katara?" She notes the way his jaw ticks, and it strikes her at that moment how much he looks like their father. "You used to say Aang was your destiny and yeah, fine. Maybe he was. But the _Avatar_ isn’t. I just..." He lets out a desperate huff. "I just want you to live _your_ life, Katara. Stop shouldering everyone’s burden, and just let yourself _live_. Don’t you think it’s time?"

He crouches in front of the bed and puts a hand on her shoulder. "You deserve it, sis. Now you just have to accept it."

Katara thinks of glowing tattoos and flashing eyes, seared into her mind, and she knows her decision is made.

Without a word, she pulls her brother closer, wrapping her arms around his chest. Suki’s hand is a warm, comforting presence on her back. "You know I love you guys, right?" she whispers. Sokka gets it instantly, and his shoulders sag in resignation.

"Ugh, fine." His lips twitch into a small smile. "Can’t wait to meet the rascal that’ll drive you up the wall, though."

Her responding grimace is wry. "Of that, Sokka, I have no doubt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's baaack.  
> Sorry for the delay, guys, and thanks to everyone who's left kudos and reviews for the last chapters!  
> This one's not quite what I expected and really really short, but necessary to the semblance of "plot" of this story.  
> Only two chapters left, with the last one already written! (Fun fact, it's the first one I wrote, actually)


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